


Will you think about me now and then?

by redlipsredledger



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: One Shot, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 21:31:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17988872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redlipsredledger/pseuds/redlipsredledger
Summary: A quick One Shot in Han's perspective just before he dies.





	Will you think about me now and then?

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever Star Wars work and it'll probably be my last because as you can see, I suck.

It burned, more than he remembered; he'd been hit before with blasters and saber or two...

He should have known that they burned, he should have remembered the pain of it but he could feel it this time around, he could feel his flesh melting around it and how much harder it became to breathe; he could feel it burn through the strong muscles of his aged chest, the fire replacing the stubborn heart that beat for a few final moments regardless of the all consuming flames that were spreading through his body and he reached out. Not to the man that stabbed him, not to the person stood before him but to his son.

To the child that he loved, the boy that he'd raised. The boy that had been born out of a love that burned so brightly and lasted many, many lifetimes over because love indeed he did; he would always love Leia and he knew it. She was the only person in the world that had ever truly known who he was, and she loved him regardless of all of that. Regardless of all of the spunk, the smart ass remarks, the dangers he put himself and her in over the years, regardless of his barely legal misadventures, she loved him.

And Gods, how he loved her. There weren't enough words in any of the languages in the galaxy for him to ever tell her how much and so, Han Solo reached out in his final moments, not to Kylo Ren but to Ben Solo. To the boy that had been born of two souls so lost until they'd found one another and he wanted his boy to know that he forgave him. He wanted him to know that no matter what, his father loved him and that there was still something inside of him that could be saved.

There was still light in there worth fighting for, and if this was what he needed to do to find that light for himself then that was okay. It was okay. He was okay with dying for his boy because he'd put himself in the firing line for many a stupid reason before, at least this one was worth it. He remembered everything in those moments. Those few, fleeting, precious moments he had between life and death, Han remembered every second of his life. Every torment, heartbreak, broken bone, cut, scrape, happiness, sorrow, fear and woe. He remembered absolutely everything.

 _Leia_ He whispered her name; he doubted his son even heard or saw his lips move. Ben had his mothers eyes and it was like looking into eternity then and there, an eternity that would end here and now for him as the lost words he'd never said settled in his mind like burning embers, consuming him and filling him with sorrow that he hadn't been able to hold her just one last time. That he hadn't been able to tell her that he loved her just one last time but if it could drive their son home again...

If he could give her back her son, then yes, death indeed was worth it and so, Stoic as ever, Han Solo tried his best not to show the emotions that he felt within him like a tsunami and instead, he focused solely on the boy before him. The boy that could still be saved. The boy that could come back from this; he was the greatest hope the galaxy had and somehow, somehow he'd been convinced he was a monster but that was so far from the truth. They all had darkness within them, but they could fight.

And Ben... _Oh, Ben, Ben, please fight_. He couldn't speak, he tried but he couldn't get the words out and so, desperate, tired blue eyes locked onto his sons almost as though he wished he could transmit the message psychically to him. _Please fight_. He wanted so badly for that to be the final thing that he said to his son, but he knew that his strength was failing him faster than the words would reach his lips and so, with ragged breath, Han Solo allowed his hands to fall away from his boy and he fell. He fell.

Down, feeling the air rush against his skin both hot and cold all at the same time and he closed his eyes as he fell into the darkness, wishing it were water that would wash away all of his sadness as he thought about what he was leaving behind; the woman he'd spent forty years loving, the boy that he hadn't been able to save, the brother in law that left them all for his own solace, the newfound lost soul that needed guidance the way that he once had... He knew he was leaving so much behind now.

He hadn't realised he'd had so much to lose until it was slipping away from him into the abyss; he could feel his heart slowing, slowing... The beating coming less and less frequently and oh, oh, it was so hard to breathe; was it supposed to be this hard to breathe? It didn't hurt, not even a little bit which was pleasant, perhaps he was one of the lucky few that could greet death as an old friend because the Forces in the galaxy knew he'd been outrunning it for long enough now. Han Solo was going to die.

In less than seconds, if his estimation was correct but he didn't mind; as he felt the life fleeing from his body like a wild rabbit, he found himself smiling as somewhere in that addled, dying mind of his an image appeared and he watched. He watched as his wife held their son in her arms and he knew. He knew it was all worth it. It was all worth dying for if Ben could finally just go home.


End file.
